


sprint repeats

by 3dghosts



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29349534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3dghosts/pseuds/3dghosts
Summary: Miko Kuroda is dead, and in this void, all she can do is think.
Relationships: Kuroda "Miko" Miki & Makimura Miki, Kuroda "Miko" Miki/Makimura Miki
Kudos: 5





	sprint repeats

**Author's Note:**

> wahhhhh its been a year since i watched devilman but the time loop still has me down bad so........here this is! love my girls :( and im sorry this is so so so short

_“-run!”_

Miko Kuroda is dead. Well, only technically.

Nearly immediately after her decapitation, all sensory input ceased. The world went black, but she felt grateful for the dark. One can only stare into the apocalypse for so long.

Three minutes after her head squelched its way onto a pike, neurons still slog along, sparking weakly. All thanks to the demon blood, she guesses.

Miko wonders if Miki got away, if Akira descended from the sky soaked in golden gore and hope. She feels a twinge, a stab of bitterness in her heart, but that’s not rational, she thinks. For one, she doesn’t physically have a heart anymore. What’s more, she’d never admit her love, her weakness. Not in life nor in death.

Half an hour later, or maybe a day later, or maybe in another life, Miko starts to forget to remember. Somewhere in the back of her mind is a searing August, the memory slipping away like a baton through sweaty fingers. What was it again, the feeling of sweat? Ribs under tight cotton? Remember the tightening of her chest, air coming in sharp stabs, the feeling of life?

She’s losing track of time.

Strange remnants, laced with an unplaceable nostalgia, come in tides. Ghosts of distant Tuesdays stitch together past and present. She sees organs slippery with viscera or is that just condensation from her water bottle? Phantoms faces swim hazily.

Miki. She’s in the classroom. School just ended. She’s watching her walk away, one foot past the threshold of the door, nearly gone now, and she yells to mask the desperation,

“ _Miki! Let’s go on a-“_


End file.
